


under the weather

by khayr



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, sick day, what do you mean sick day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6146017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khayr/pseuds/khayr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You barely made it to the couch,” he pointed out, entering the room with a mug in each hand, “And I’m sure the students would like to avoid catching whatever you have.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	under the weather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilverGold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverGold/gifts).



> pro tip if ur my friend and you're having a bad time i will probably try to shower u with fic it's all i know how to do aaaa
> 
> (how ur week gets better b)

She was miserable. Her head pounded with one of the worst headaches she could recall in recent memory. Glynda felt feverish all over and her stomach churned uncertainly all the while as if deciding if it should ruin her day further.   
  
What had started as a sore throat three days earlier was now another monster entirely, and for the first time in what might have been her entire teaching career Glynda was forced into using sick leave. Not of her own volition, of course; Ozpin had taken one look at her that morning and refused to let her get up and go in. There was no way she was going to simply lay in bed all day and had at least dragged herself to the couch, but she hardly felt any better sitting up than lying down.   
  
“You slept through your alarm, first of all,” Ozpin called from the kitchen as if hearing her thoughts, “When I’m out of bed before you on a weekday there’s something seriously wrong.”   
  
“I’m fine,” she grumbled lamely, her throat aching in protest with each syllable, “Midterms are coming, I have classes to teach.”   
  
Ozpin poked his head through the doorway of the living room, eyebrows raised. He didn’t look anything other than amused and that only added to Glynda’s agitation.   
  
“You barely made it to the couch,” he pointed out, entering the room with a mug in each hand, “And I’m sure the students would like to avoid catching whatever you have.”   
  
He passed one mug to her, smiling that lopsided smile he used when he knew she couldn’t say no. It was incredibly endearing- in the worst of ways- and Glynda had to forcibly scowl at him to feel like she had put up some kind of fight. She knew he was right, but she certainly wasn’t going to admit it out loud to him.   
  
She curled her fingers around the mug instead, leaching warmth from it and taking a slow sip of the beverage. It was tea, not coffee, and her favorite variety from Vacuo at that. Glynda noted the faint bitter aftertaste that came with over-steeped tea but hardly had the heart to point it out to Ozpin. It was still drinkable regardless, and he  _ was  _ trying to at least make her comfortable despite her relative misery. Whether or not the man could properly brew anything besides coffee was besides the point.   
  
After a short stretch of quiet she turned to lean her back against his side, drawing her legs up onto the couch and tucking her knees in close to her chest. He let out a soft hum in response and craned his neck to press a kiss to her head, his fingertips tracing lazy circles against her shoulder.   
  
“There’s a pot of soup going on the stove for later,” he said after a moment, putting his now empty coffee mug down on the table, “You should at least try to rest before you attempt to get any work done.”   
  
She crinkled her nose at the notion of ‘ _ rest _ ’, but Ozpin’s suggestion only stemmed from genuine concern for her wellbeing. When she tilted her head back against him he carefully took the mug from her hands and placed it beside his own before tugging her blanket a little higher up for good measure. He curled his arm around her shoulders when she settled further and stretched her legs out again; clearly he was more than ready to take a nap himself despite the fact that  _ he  _ wasn’t the one that was actually sick.   
  
Typical. He felt cool against her fevered body, however, and his soothing weight at her back had her slipping into what she hoped was an actual nap and not just restless tossing and turning. His head dipped to rest in the crook of her neck with a soft huff of breath that ghosted against her skin.   
  
Rest. Recover. Recharge. He was right, honestly, though she was loath to admit it.   
  
Perhaps when she woke later she would feel better.


End file.
